by M. J. Fields
“But I get fucked.” I pat his back when I walk by.
“Oh, yeah.” He laughs from behind me.
I stop dead in my tracks and look back at him.
“How long’s it been?”
“Don’t push me, man,” I warn.
“I know the answer,” he taunts.
“Been busy.”
“Been slightly obsessed.” He laughs again, and I turn around.
“No intention of fucking her, Mitch. You got it? None.”
“Then what the fuck? Fawn comes to our place, begging to suck on the Links’ lollypop and denied.”
“Something about her rubbed me the wrong way. I told you about the shit in the bathroom last night,” I remind him.
He shrugs. “She’s a little crazy, but damn near hits all your requirements.”
“Crazy is lazy. I don’t want that in bed. But a little twisted in the head makes them good in bed.”
“Love your advice, man, but here’s some from me to you. You need to bust a nut before you end up falling in love with the one you won’t touch.”
“Not gonna fall in love,” I assure him.
“Then tomorrow night, after the game, we’re throwing a party.” He winks.
I almost tell him no. I mean, who the hell will watch after London? But it’s a long weekend. Tessa and Dad mentioned London riding back with them to go home for a couple nights. I told them I would bring her back Monday night.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
Plans are set. The house is going to be ready for a fucking party, and Mitch is right, I do need to get laid.
I’m never going to be the guy who breaks a heart, not one like hers. I’m invested in her. She’s not family, but I sure as fuck see her in my life twenty years down the road. And I’m not the guy I picture her looking at with those big eyes, smiling because I did something like bring her flowers, rubbed her feet, or told her she’s fucking beautiful when she rolls over in the morning and her hair is fucked up like it was today. I don’t want to kiss London Fields in the morning and act like her mouth tastes like fucking Skittles when it tastes like last night’s mouth shot of my swimmers.
She would see past my shit. We have known each other so damn long we know nearly everything there is to know about one another. I’m steps away from knowing what she looks like in my bathrobe and slippers, and that, that’s not happening.
No one could be enough for her. Hell, I’m not even a second date kind of guy since the crazy bitch in high school who lied and told me she was knocked up.
No fucking way she was. I wrapped that shit tight. Hell, my dad used to leave boxes of condoms under my pillow like he was the tooth fairy or some shit. No clue how he knew I was fucking, but the damn things showed up the day after my dick fired off its first round in something besides a tissue, shower, or blanket.
Bitch pulled that right when my parents’ marriage went south, and that was enough of a fucking sign for me.
Peace. The fuck. Out.
Love is a joke played on fools, and I’m nobody’s fool.
Game Day
London
To say our quad was buzzing with excitement would be as understated as “Goodbye” from Catch Me If You Can.
I would swear Jamie was high if I didn’t know better. And I do. All she has talked about since eight o’clock this morning was number 12.
Walking across the street, heading for the Dome, she checked her purse...in the middle of the road, looking for her ticket, and almost got hit by a city bus. If not for Christy, she would have.
It was an hour before the game, and I tried to tell her we had plenty of time.
“I want the full experience of Lucas Links’ seats.”
I don’t want to burst her bubble, so I don’t tell her the seats are regular seats, just closer with a less obstructed view. It’s not like the NFL box seats. The positive note is, Lucas’s seats are the best in the Dome. Four rows up from SU’s sideline. I will admit it is the perfect place to stare at those fine, firm fannies without getting caught.
“Section A.” Jamie points to the sign. “We are so close!”
Lisa and Christy are just as giddy, but not nearly as vocal about it as Jamie.
When we finally get to our seats, she stands speechless in front of the bench. Yeah, it’s a cold steel bench with numbers on it.
Lucas has the first two rows, and has since Logan started playing. Landon, Logan’s grandfather, owns one of the boxes. When he and Lucas had a falling out and split ways in the construction business, he refused to sit with him. Now the box sits empty most of the time. The only time it’s in use is when Ashley, Lucas’s ex-wife and Logan’s mother, and her husband come, or as Lucas says, “when Landon is trying to kiss a client’s ass.”
I see Lucas down on the sidelines talking to Coach Brown.
“We have the first two rows, ladies, so pick your spots.” I turn and smile at Tessa.
“You must be Jamie,” she says to me, and I try my best not to laugh.
“Nope, that’s Elle. I’m Jamie.” Jamie steps up and holds out her hand. “You must be Teresa.”
“Tessa,” she corrects her.
Jamie palms her face. “I am so sorry. I thought Logan said Teresa.”
I don’t know if she really forgot her name or was being underhandedly disrespectful, but either way, it’s funny.
Tessa being Tessa, acts as if it’s no big deal.
“I’m not sure where I should sit. So many options.” Jamie looks around.
Tessa reaches in her big SU bag and pulls out a seat cushion. “We got you girls some fan gear, and I fully expect you to be as loud and proud as Lucas will be. In fact, I’d like it if you were louder.”
“You didn’t have to.” Jamie’s sincerity is adorable.
“Here’s this, too.” Tessa hands her a big foam finger, which makes Jamie grin.
Christy and Lisa take theirs and sit farther down the bench. Then Tessa hands me mine.
I smile. “Thank you, Teresa.”
Jamie elbows me and whispers, “Tessa. It’s Tessa.”
“I mean, Tessa.” I grin.
Tessa smirks. “It’s fine.”
When Lucas starts to step in front of me, he purposely hip-checks me, making me fall back into my seat.
“Oh, shit. My bad. You okay, Elle?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” I roll my eyes and try to stop smirking.
“Hey.” He lifts his chin and blatantly ogles Tessa.
“Here we go,” she mumbles.
He takes her hand and kisses it. “I don’t know you, but I was down on the field and looked up, and I swear to God I thought I saw the most beautiful woman on the entire planet. I was right. My next thought...” He leans in and whispers the next part.
She smacks his chest. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”
“I was hoping bad.”
She shakes her head.
“Guess it doesn’t matter. That can be worked out. But I’m telling you, something happened to me down there and I had to come make you mine.”
She holds her finger up. “Already am.”
“Bet your ass you are.” He pulls her into a hug. “Love you, baby.”
“You’re such a child, but I love you anyway.” She hugs him back, then kisses his cheek.
He steps back and leans against the railing, giving her a wink before looking at the four of us. “Tessa give you all the rules for this section yet?”
Jamie nods her head enthusiastically. “Be loud and proud.”
He smiles. “The loudest and proudest.”
“Gotcha, Lucas Links. We can do that.” She looks at Christy and Lisa. “Right?”
“Heck yes!” Christy holds up her finger.
“Okay, bring it in for a huddle,” he says, beckoning us.
I have been in one of these things before. It’s nothing if not amusing.
Tessa sighs as I pull her up with me.
“Okay, team, we have one objective here toda
y: to make you lifelong Orange fans. In order to do that, you need to know some history. I’m gonna pop off important information. Hold your questions for later.” He looks at Jamie. “Jamie, you wanna add something, feel free.”
“Gotcha.” Jamie gives him a thumbs-up.
“The rest of you, make mental notes.”
We all nod.
“Let’s start with the program. Been around since 1898. That’s a long fucking time. We have sixteen Hall of Famers who bled orange. First names gonna ring a bell, but I can assure you he’s not the rapper. Biggie ‘Smalls’ Munn, Frank O’Neil, Ben Schwartzwalder, Joe Alexander, Larry Csonka, Ernie Davis, Vic Hanson, Floyd Fucking Little, Jim Brown, Tim Green, Don McPherson, Tad Jones, Howard Jones, Lucas Links, Dick MacPherson, and Art Monk. All legends.”
“Some in their own minds,” Tessa interjects.
“Baby, you’ll pay for that shit.” He smirks then looks back at us. “We’ve won fifteen Bowls, lost nine, and tied one. Anyone know the tied game?” None of us answer. “1988 Sugar Bowl against Auburn Tigers. Fuckers wouldn’t play to win. Accepted a tie. Pissed the community off. 2000, ‘Cuse fans sent Coach Pat Dye ugly ties in protest. Fucker signed them and auctioned them off, raising 30K for Auburn’s general scholarship fund, basically pissing on our”—he holds up two fingers—“twice, 11-0 record, making it 11-01-01. Ain’t nobody like that shit. Especially not me.”
“Did you play in the game, Mr. Links?” Lisa asks.
“It’s Lucas, and I was supposed to. Instead—”
“He was signed by the Jets,” Jamie tells her.
“Right, Jamie.” He winks at her. “Now, do you know why we have to fuck shit up today?”
“We’re playing Auburn?” Christy asks.
The look on his face is priceless, and Tessa whispers a warning growl, “Lucas.”
He breaks huddle, lets out a deep breath, turns, grips the railing, bends down, and bangs his head on it. Then he turns around and reaches out for her hand. She takes it.
“Gotta be smart to get into this school, right?”
She nods.
“Can you tell me what the scoreboard says?”
She looks around for it.
Lucas bites his fist and sputters. Then he takes a deep breath and points to it.
“Oh.” Christy giggles with embarrassment. “Pittsburg?”
“Yeah, Pittsburg.” He turns and looks at Tessa.
“Don’t,” she warns again.
He looks back at Christy. “You need to attend every home game we play. You have three more seasons after this. Hopefully, you’ll graduate and love it here enough to come back, be part of ‘Cuse nation for life.”
She nods, smiling.
He sighs. “That’s a good girl.” He pats her on the head.
We all laugh, including Christy, who is also blushing.
Lisa, Christy, and Jamie then sit and listen to Lucas talk about the Dome with the same eagerness to learn as I had my first game. He’s probably one of the reasons I even considered this school. Him and the community as a whole love this place, and their excitement is contagious.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” I tell them, standing.
“Um, okay. Do you want us?” Jamie asks, clearly not wanting to leave.
“No, you stay.” Tessa stands up. “I’ll go with her.”
“Fifteen minutes to kick off, baby. Hurry back.” Lucas stands up and gives her a kiss.
Walking up the stairs with Tessa behind me feels like any other time here at the Dome.
When we walk out to the nearest restroom, I lean against the wall, and she smiles at me.
“They seem fun.”
“They really are.” I can’t help allowing myself to cheese.
Tessa chuckles and hugs me. “I’m so happy you’re happy.”
“Thank you.” I lean back. “I was never really unhappy before, but...you know.”
“Believe it or not, I do know. I never dealt with all the horrible things you’ve dealt with.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “But that’s all behind us now.”
I nod, knowing she’s been through as much, maybe even more than, I have, yet she’s happy. Truly happy.
“High school, though.” She laughs. “Hell. Total hell. Girls are so damn mean. Had it not been for my family, Jade, Becca, and Phoebe my senior year, I don’t know how I would have made it.”
“I’m grateful for my family—all of you. I wouldn’t have made it otherwise. I certainly wouldn’t have found the guts to do this.”
“Aunt Josie and I have talked about all the crap you went through with the girls involved in the musicals.” Tessa and my father were first cousins. Her father John and my grandma Josie are siblings.
“She helped me a lot, just by making things fun and—”
She smiles. “Give them something to talk about.”
“Yep,” I giggle. “Never really resonated with me until the other day, but I totally get it now.”
“Finding the right people helps, too.” Tessa nods. “You’ve been rooming with them for over a month now, do they seem consistently the same as when you moved in?”
I nod. “Even better.”
“I’m so glad.”
Once we use the bathroom and stop to get sodas and snacks, we make our way back to our seats just in time to for kick off.
Lucas is sitting next to Jamie, who’s still smiling. Christy is next to her and focused on everything he says. Lisa is leaning forward, watching the field intently.
Pitt wins the coin toss and is receiving.
Lucas stands as SU’s defense takes the field. “Let’s go Orange!”
Logan looks back and lifts his chin. Lucas hits his fist to his chest, and Logan does it in return. Then he runs across the field to his position.
I’m focused on him, always on him. As soon as the ball is snapped, I see him move first, taking down two guys before sacking the quarterback.
Lucas jumps up and throws a fist in the air, yelling, “Fuck yes!”
Logan stands up, looks to Lucas, and they do the chest hit thing again.
“Next time, strip the ball!” Jamie yells, and Lucas looks at her. “Oh, I mean, fuck yes!”
Lucas laughs, and they bump fists.
Tessa snorts. “Oh, Lord.”
“You told her to be louder. She’s not one to disappoint.”
“This is gonna be one heck of a game.” Tessa sits back and takes a drink. “Probably should have gotten a beer.”
I raise my hands. “I’m all set.”
She laughs at that.
The game is amazing. At the half, Logan has two sacks and five solo tackles.
“My boy’s gonna break his record today.” Lucas smiles. “Better than I ever was, baby.” He hugs Tessa, and she smiles.
“You were the best, Lucas.”
“I could’ve been better.” He takes her face and presses his forehead against hers. “Had every fucking reason to be.”
She closes her eyes. “And we have five reasons why it had to be the way it was.”
“Plus, four more.” He smiles and kisses her nose.
“Yeah.” She nods.
I watch as two big guys in opposing team hoodies plop down in front of us. They are in seats that belong to Lucas. Maybe he sold them on Stub Hub, but by the look on Tessa’s face, I am probably wishfully thinking.
“Lucas.” Tessa looks up at him.
“I’ll be nice, baby.” He kisses her again.
“Those two should get a fucking room,” one says rather loudly to the other.
“Just ignore them,” Tessa tells Lucas.
“Yeah.” He forces a laugh. “That’s just what I’ll do.” When he leans forward, she sits back.
“And here we go.”
“You two clowns need to keep your comments to yourselves.”
“Fuck that. We were raised to speak our minds,” one says from over his shoulder.
“You wanna sit in those seats, you keep your mouths shut a
nd take off those fucking ridiculous colors.”
“You want the shirt off, how about you come and take it off me?” the other says.
“Lucas, don’t.” Tessa doesn’t whisper this time.
“You little punks keep running your mouths and we can take this outside.”
“Little punks, huh? I got your little.” He stands and grabs his junk.
I cover my face and wait for shit to hit the fan.
“Oh, my God!” Tessa cries out, and I look up. “When? How? Oh, my God!”
“Do you know who this man is?” Jamie says, and I want to tell her, yes, yes, they do, but I can’t.
“He’s Lucas Links,” Christy starts. “And we got his back.”
CJ leans forward. “Is that so?”
Christy copies his pose. “You bet your Pittsburg-loving ass we do.”
CJ looks at Tessa. “You know this girl?”
Tessa laughs and nods.
“Well, of course she does.” Christy isn’t catching on that this is a surprise visit from Tessa’s sons, and she’s not backing down either.
“Christy, honey, it’s—”
“No, wait. I wanna know what five-foot-nothing of badass can do to a six-foot-two Pitt fan.” CJ laughs. “Whatcha got, little badass?”
She grabs the hem of his sweatshirt. “I have the ugliest hoodie in this place in my hands and I am about to tear it apart.”
CJ bites his lip then smiles. “Red, I’m gonna have to say, I dare you.”
Christy starts pulling up his sweatshirt, but at midway, she stops and looks up at him. “Be a damn gentleman and lift your arms. Can’t you see I’m struggling here?”
I look at Jamie and Lisa, who have clearly caught on, but not Christy.
When CJ lifts his arms, she continues to pull it up.
“You need a ladder? Want me to bend down? Wanna give up the fight and go out to dinner with me?”
“Excuse me?” She huffs and climbs over the bench. She moves to yank the shirt up again, when CJ grabs her by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. He then leans down and grabs his beer.
Laughing, he asks, “Mom, who the hell is this?”
Christy pops up and looks back. “Mom?”
Lucas laughs. “Sorry, Christy, but yeah, this is one of ours.”
“Well then, put me down.” She wiggles around.